


hit the back

by kate_button



Series: been crawling [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Christmas Smut, Collars, Frottage, Leashes, M/M, Oral Sex, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_button/pseuds/kate_button
Summary: Steve wakes up on Christmas morning to an empty bed and a text message and his collar from Halloween on the pillow where Billy’s head was when he fell asleep.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: been crawling [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557631
Comments: 18
Kudos: 352





	hit the back

**Author's Note:**

> only a week late! this thing has been fighting with me since thanksgiving, and there's a 4000 word version of it in my drafts that i scrapped entirely to start over on christmas day. this version of it was written in two sittings and i REALLY had hoped to get it out on christmas, but alas.

Steve wakes up on Christmas morning to an empty bed and a text message and his collar from Halloween on the pillow where Billy’s head was when he fell asleep.

_i’ll be back in a little bit_

The message doesn’t say to put the collar on, but Steve’s dick is hard and his boyfriend is gone and it’s Christmas and he thinks there’s enough of an implication there to suggest that he might be getting fucked stupid before this day is over, and he plans on doing everything in his power to help destiny along, honestly.

He feels wired, jittery and excited as puts the leather around his neck and pulls it snug and buckles it, tucks the extra bit at the end through the loop so it lays flat. He hooks his finger through the metal ring at the front and gives it a little tug, and his dick throbs about it. 

Fucking Billy. Steve was never into this shit before him and it’s been all he can think about for weeks. _Weeks_. Steve’s been caught between thinking Billy’d forgotten all about that night and thinking that Billy absolutely remembers and has been fucking with him in the form of little one word commands peppered into their interactions when Steve’s least expecting them, like at a restaurant with Robin and Heather, when Billy snaps his fingers and points at the seat next to him and says ‘sit’ or at a bar one night when Billy’s gotta piss and he points his finger at Steve and then at the floor under his feet and says ‘stay’ and Steve is suddenly so fucking turned on he doesn’t move a muscle until Billy comes back, pleased little grin on his face when he finds Steve just how he left him, shit like that.

He remembers, apparently. And fucking good, because Steve was starting to think they might actually have to _talk_ about it, and that’s the last goddamn thing he wants. 

He pulls on a pair of sweats and a zip up hoodie and pads out to the kitchen for coffee and everything is a little sharper, a little better because he’s got the collar around his throat and there’s no forgetting it’s there, not like last time, not like when he was drunk at that party and barely remembered it existed until Billy started pulling him around by it.

He hopes to christ Billy plans on pulling him around by it. Hopes Billy orders him around and makes him burn with embarrassment and fucks him so good he couldn’t speak even if he was allowed to. If he doesn’t Steve might have to leave his ass and find someone to fuck him right. Or worse, actually use his words and tell Billy what he wants. 

He sprawls on the couch and fucks around on his phone for a few minutes while he sips his coffee, then gives up - the internet is surprisingly boring on Christmas - and gets his hand on his dick just to pass the time. 

It’s not like he’s gonna come, it’s just that he thinks it could be fun if Billy walked in on him with his collar on and his hand down his pants. Thinks that could end well for him. Thinks maybe he’d get the working over he wants and, frankly, that he thinks he deserves. He’s been good. Sent Billy dirty videos while Billy was sitting in class, woke him up with blowjobs, eaten him out until his jaw ached and Billy was thrashing, incoherent, coming on his tongue. He makes Billy coffee in the morning. Cooks him dinner sometimes. He deserves a real good dicking, deserves to get fucked right out of his head. It’s Christmas. 

So that’s how Billy finds him. One leg hanging off the side of the couch, hand down his pants, sweatshirt hanging open while he pinches his nipple with his free hand. He hangs his head over the arm of the couch and watches Billy come in the front door upside down and grins at him, not bothering to take his hand off his dick.

‘Morning,’ Steve says, ‘merry Christmas.’

Billy raises his eyebrows at him, kicks the door shut and strips off his jacket. ‘You started without me.’

Steve licks his lips. ‘You didn’t tell me not to.’

Billy toes off his shoes and comes over and looks down at him, looks flushed maybe from the cold and maybe a little from Steve, if the way his pupils are all blown wide is anything to go by. He hooks a finger in the ring of Steve’s collar and makes Steve’s breath stall out in his chest, pulls up on it as he leans down to kiss him. He knocks Steve’s hand out of the way and takes Steve’s nipple between his fingers, pinches until it gets a whimper out of him and then pulls back, lets go and puts enough distance between them that he can look at Steve’s face. 

And Steve’s like. He’s been ready to go since he woke up, but that look on Billy’s face, Billy’s grip on his collar, Billy looming over him like that has him panting a little, has his dick aching. 

Then Billy snaps and points at the floor next to the couch and says ‘on your knees,’ and Steve’s whole brain just short circuits, lava in his veins, dick pulsing almost painfully as his stomach twists. 

‘Fuck,’ he breathes, out of his mouth on it’s own before he has a chance to think about it, and Billy smacks him in the cheek, not too hard but hard enough to get him blushing, get a hot prickle burning his neck and his chest and his ears. He bites his lip and rolls off the couch and sits back on his knees and doesn’t look up at Billy because he fucking can’t. 

He thinks he might be in love. Billy drags his fingers through Steve’s hair and pulls until Steve tilts his face up, heart slamming in his chest as he finally meets Billy’s eyes. The embarrassment is a constant too-warm buzz making him stupid, making him throb between his legs and behind his belly button. 

‘Watch me,’ Billy says, and Steve licks his lips and doesn’t say anything because he’s not supposed to say anything, and Billy smiles at him as he strips his shirt off and tosses it aside, undoes his jeans and shoves them down and steps out of them and Steve gets a good look at how hard his dick is, gets in his head that he’d really like that dick down his throat as soon as possible. Steve watches because Billy told him to but mostly because he can’t not, because Billy is the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen, because Billy’s body is Steve’s favorite body on this planet, because Billy is his favorite person and this is the best Christmas ever and he’s so fucking stupid with it that he’ll do anything Billy says. Once Billy’s naked he puts a finger under Steve’s chin and tips his face up further and says ‘good boy,’ and gives him a little kiss like a reward and Steve whimpers because he can’t help that either. His dick is is tenting his sweats obscenely and he wants Billy to pay attention to it but Billy doesn’t seem inclined to do so and that’s that on that, really.

Billy sits down on the couch and Steve watches and waits and takes too-quick little breaths even as he feels like he’s drowning and then Billy’s got a box in his hand, long and narrow and made of black cardboard, looking like an oversized bracelet box or something. He snaps and points at the ground between his feet and Steve feels like he’s about to burst into fucking flames as he shuffles over and puts himself where Billy wants him. 

Then Billy opens the box and Steve thinks he might actually cry, really, for real.

The leash is beautiful. Black leather, thick but soft, pliable as Billy takes it from the box and turns it over in his hands and it looks expensive, looks well made. Billy runs the length of it through his fingers and Steve can’t breathe, head swimming, body feeling kinda far away but tingly with arousal and anticipation. 

He doesn’t know how he’s gonna survive Billy actually clipping it to his collar. He thinks he might pass out. Might burst into tears. The sheer _size_ of the emotions this shit makes him feel is frankly fucking staggering and Steve doesn’t know how to cope with it, doesn’t really understand it, just knows he’s more than happy to let it drown him. He can’t get enough.

He’s jerked off to the idea of this more times than he can count at this point. The reality is more than anything he could have conjured in his fantasties.

‘Hands behind your back,’ Billy says and Steve’s got the fingers of his right hand wrapped around his left wrist before he really even processes the command, and Billy smiles at him like he’s pleased. Then he hooks his finger in the ring of Steve’s collar and draws him in closer, pulls until Steve’s up on his knees between Billy’s thighs. Billy watches him intently as his fingers find the clasp at the end of the leash and Steve’s heart is in his throat, his stomach twisting pleasantly. 

It’s like getting punched in the stomach when Billy clips the leash to the collar, little snick of metal and change in weight around his neck. A noise bubbles up from deep in his chest and Billy looks at him all wide eyed and flushed, then he wraps his leash around his hand a couple times and gives it a rough tug, pulls Steve off balance with his hands still behind his back and this fucking overwhelming _feeling_ making him clumsy. He almost ends up with his face smashed into Billy’s belly, probably would if it weren’t for Billy’s grip on the leash pulling his head up, choking him a little. Billy pulls him in and pecks him on the lips and Steve whimpers again because it’s just so _much_ , and then Billy makes it even more.

He gives Steve enough slack that he can look at his face, and then casts a significant look down at his own lap between them. 

‘You can say thank you now.’

Steve's head spins. Billy's at least as hard as he is and Steve's mouth waters and he has to kind of sit back on his heels and bend at the waist to get his mouth on it, sloppy open mouthed kisses up the under side, _thank you thank you thank you_ with each press of his lips while Billy pulls steady on the leash and keeps him there. 

He wants. Wants Billy to hold him in place and fuck his throat, wants to suck him all the way down until he chokes but when he puts his lips around it like he always does Billy pulls sharply on the leash, pulls him _off_ , says _ah ah ah_ and snaps his fingers and Steve follows the noise and looks up, confused and way too fucking turned on, heated look on Billy’s face like a kick in the gut. 

Billy slides one finger past his lips, crooks it behind his bottom teeth and tugs his mouth open and then touches his tongue. ‘Just this,’ Billy says, quiet and firm, and Steve’s dick kicks so hard it kind of hurts. Billy taps the pad of his finger down on Steve’s tongue. ‘Be good.’

Steve sucks in a breath through his nose and nods his head, and Billy smiles and takes his finger away and gives the leash a little tug. 

So Steve licks. His cheeks burn and his brain is fried and his whole body is turned on, oversensitive and too warm. He presses his tongue against Billy and licks from the base all the way up to the tip and Billy swears and clutches at his hair, so Steve does it again. Drags the tip of his tongue back down and then flattens it out and licks all the way back up, laps at the head, the salty slick at the tip, closes his eyes and kind of drifts away in it. 

He loses track of time, of anything other than working Billy over, responding to every twitch of his hips and every gasp and every tug on his hair, on the fucking collar around his neck, lapping up every drop of slick Billy gives him. Got no idea how long it is until Billy pulls him back, sharp pain in his scalp. He whimpers a little bit about it, and that makes Billy swear again. 

‘Can I fuck you?’ Billy asks, and Steve squeezes his wrist so hard it hurts, sharp bolt of pleasure in the core of him at even the thought of it. He licks his lips and then pulls against Billy’s grip on his hair enough to duck down and lick his dick again, gratified when it twitches up off his belly at the feel of it, warm glow of pride when Billy gasps. 

Then his collar is digging into the back of his neck and tension on the leash is relentless and he kinda scrambles to get up on his knees while Billy pulls up and up until he’s gotta tilt his chin up to accommodate it, gotta bend a little at the waist until his face is inches from Billy’s. 

‘I’m going to fuck you now,’ Billy says, not asking this time, and Steve’s dick throbs and prickly pleasure zips down his spine and then Billy’s not under him anymore and his hand is at the back of Steve’s neck, pushing him down and pressing his face into the warm cushion. ‘Stay,’ Billy says, ‘don’t move.’

And then he’s gone and Steve’s heart pounds and his dick throbs along with his heartbeat and he doesn’t move, barely breathes. Billy’s not gone long, back after a beat or two, leash back in his hand, pulling at it until the collar spins on his neck and the buckle sits at his nape, until he can lay the leash down on Steve’s back while he tugs his sweats down over his ass. Two slick fingers stroke over his hole and he shifts his legs a little wider but the sweats are still around his thighs and his dick’s still trapped in them and then Billy’s pushing those two fingers in, both of them, twisting his wrist while he steals all the breath from Steve’s chest, punches a little whimper out of him.

Two at once is a stretch. It’s been a few days since he last had Billy in him. He squeezes his wrist and shuts his eyes and buries his face in the cushion and tries to remind himself to breathe because it’s worse when he doesn’t, and before he knows it Billy’s fingers are all the way in him, crooking to find that spot that always makes Steve burn from the inside. Billy stays there for a while, just touching him deep and making him squirm and pulling little noises out of him. Billy’s relentless, achy pleasure in the middle of him at the tips of Billy’s fingers and he doesn’t grind against the couch, he _doesn’t_ , but it feels unbearably fucking good and his hips move on their own and the rough friction is enough to make him gasp, which has Billy yanking hard on the leash and pulling his fingers out to lay a stinging smack down on one cheek. 

‘None of that. You be good and wait your turn.’ 

It hits Steve like a brick. Makes his eyes sting. Makes his dick leak. Makes his blood hum and his head go funny and everything get just a little _more_. 

Billy lets go of the leash just long enough to lube up his dick, then he’s pressing in and pulling back and Steve can’t fucking breathe, can’t think, can’t do fucking anything. The stretch is too much and exactly enough and Billy, Billy’s got a relentless grip on the leash, not so much pushing in as pulling Steve back onto him, really, and it’s the hottest fucking thing that anyone’s ever done to him, Steve’s pretty sure. Once Billy’s hips are pressed flush to his cheeks he just kind of grinds there, wraps the leash around his hand another couple times and _yanks_ , makes Steve choke and swears when it makes his ass tighten up around his dick.

Then Billy fucks him, pulls back and snaps his hips forward so hard it makes Steve cry out and then does it again, and again, and again. He says shit, Steve’s pretty sure, praise or dirty talk or who knows what because Steve’s head is a little fucked up and his ears are ringing a little and the only thing in the world is Billy’s dick in him and Billy’s leash keeping him right where he wants him and Steve feels like he could fall apart, would if Billy weren’t holding him together.

Billy always fucks him good, but this is something else. This has Steve pretty fucking gone, feeling shit he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before, Halloween but more _in it_ , impossibly. Billy takes one of his wrists with his free hand and twists his arm up behind his back and a hot throb of pleasure almost has him coming right then and there, just like that, pinned between Billy’s dick and Billy’s grip on the leash and Billy’s fingers squeezing bruises into his wrist and making his shoulder fucking scream. It’s a lot. It’s too much and Steve can’t keep up.

‘Don’t come,’ Billy says, breaks through the haze, punctuates it with a sharp little snap of his hips, ‘not yet.’

Steve chokes out a little sob, but Billy’s thrusts start to get a little more erratic, stay a little deeper, turn into more of a hot grind and he squeezes Steve’s wrist and it _hurts_ , and Steve doesn’t come even when Billy does, saying his name and making those little noises that always fuck Steve right up and pulsing inside him and Steve fucking loves that feeling, loves it almost as much as he likes coming, honestly, loses his goddamn mind a little every time he feels Billy coming _in him_ , because of him. It’s more like this. Has him grinding back onto Billy, trying to get him deeper, somehow. 

Then Billy pulls out and that’s the worst part, always the worst part, Steve fucking _hates_ that part but hates it more now, all fucked stupid and aching and needing. Billy huffs a little and lets go of his wrist and presses a kiss to the sweat-sticky skin at the small of his back, and Steve shakes, fumbling fingers clutching at the cushion while everything from his belly to his knees, like, _pulses_. 

Billy pushes two fingers into him, easy as anything, so fucking slick and open and Steve presses his face into the cushions and whines, tries desperately hard not to fuck his hips forward against the edge of the couch. 

‘You’re such a good boy,’ Billy says, low rumble like a purr as he crooks his fingers and makes Steve’s vision sparkle, ‘being so patient, yeah? Doing just what I say.’

Steve can’t breathe. Billy pulls his fingers out and pulls up on the leash and wraps an arm around Steve and maneuvers him back until he’s sitting in his heels, sweats still digging into this thighs, aching dick still all trapped in them. Billy reaches down and palms it, gives it a little squeeze, just enough to make Steve’s whole body jerk, tense up as pleasure hits him kinda everywhere. 

Then Billy’s gone and Steve’s cold and too hot and way oversensitive, air on his skin enough to drive him a little crazy. Billy sprawls back onto the couch in front of him, so much bare skin, strong thighs and the hair between his legs and his soft dick and Steve’s mouth waters and his eyes do a little too and then Billy leans down and kisses him, kisses him real sweet as he rotates the collar again, gets the leash back in his hand. 

He sits back when he breaks away, just looks Steve over, makes him self-conscious and embarrassed and so fucking hot for it. 

‘Come up here,’ he says with a little tug to the leash, and Steve scrambles up onto the couch, clumsy and stupid, pants tangled around his legs and limbs feeling like they don’t really belong to him. Billy guides him with hands on his hips, pulls him in close until they’re flush together, Steve’s dick pressed between them. Billy kisses at his neck, traces the edge of the collar with his tongue, then pushes and pulls at Steve’s hips like a suggestion. Like an instruction. ‘Want you to come like this,’ Billy says, and nips at his neck and pushes and pulls at his hips again and Steve, Steve doesn’t need to be told twice, rolls his hips and grinds against Billy’s stomach. It’s not perfect, the pressure is inconsistent and he’s got no control over the angle and his stupid fucking sweats are still between them, sticky-wet with precome but frustratingly between him and Billy’s skin but it doesn’t even fucking matter at this point, not when he’s this out of it, not when he’s this turned on and Billy told him to come humping him like a fucking dog. 

His head spins. Nothing exists except Billy’s hands on his hips and Billy’s mouth on his neck and the friction on his cock and delicious shame and fucking blinding desire. He doesn’t care about any of it, doesn’t care how fucking desperate he is or that Billy’s seeing him like this or that he thinks it’s the hottest thing in the world getting treated like Billy’s pet and that Billy _knows_.

None of it matters. He’s got pleasure and need coiling white hot in his belly, big and solid and real, building and growing and pushing at him from the inside as he ruts into Billy like a fucking animal, making noises like one too.

‘Yeah, there you go, god, Stevie, that’s so fucking- you’re so fucking perfect, fuck, come on baby-’ and that’s enough, too much, his orgasm ripping through him and sending him into fucking orbit. It goes on forever. He feels amazing. Spent and humming, shivery little aftershocks making him twitchy whenever Billy breathes or his fingers move or anything happens at all, really. He tucks his face into the crook of Billy’s neck, boneless and useless and so content he could cry. 

Billy slides one hand into his hair, strokes his back with the other, and it makes Steve shiver again. 

‘Steve?’ Billy asks, and Steve hums and presses his lips to Billy’s neck, makes his hands move until they find Billy’s waist. His body is still humming, his heart still racing, all his muscles feeling twitchy and warm. He rocks his hips one last time, hums into Billy’s hair. Billy chuckles, and it makes Steve feel amazing. 

‘Merry Christmas,’ he slurs, muffled by Billy’s skin. ‘That was amazing.’

‘Yeah?’ Billy says, moves his hands up to Steve’s head and picks his face up until he can look at him. Steve’s useless, deadweight, really, but he lets Billy move him, grins at him all stupid and happy like he feels. 

‘Yeah,’ he says, and kisses him sloppily, not quite lined up right, ‘yeah. _Thank you_. Best present ever.’

Billy rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are kinda pink. ‘Don’t have to thank me. Was as much a present to myself as it was to you. You’re so fucking hot, babe.’

‘Stop,’ Steve says, a little whiny, presses his face back into Billy’s neck. The come kind of everywhere in his pants is quickly becoming uncomfortable now that he’s not so turned on he can’t see straight. ‘I’m gross. Need a shower.’

‘Hot and gross,’ Billy says, and kisses his sweaty hair. Steve thinks he might be in love. ‘Tempted to just lay you out and clean you up myself.’

‘Nnn,’ Steve groans, ‘quit. Gonna make me wanna go again.’

‘That a bad thing?’

Steve picks his head up and looks at Billy again. ‘I might pass out, but you can try it if you want.’

Billy smiles, the dimply kind that makes Steve want to hug the shit out of him and never let him go. ‘I like you.’

It pulls a blush to Steve’s cheeks, makes his chest warm. It’s so fucking sweet. Somehow gets him just like if Billy had said the other four-letter L-word. ‘That’s good, cause there’s no way you’re ever getting rid of me if you keep fucking me like that,’ he says, slides his hands around Billy’s back and tucks himself in close. Billy holds him a little tighter. ‘I like you too.’

‘Good,’ Billy says, ‘never wanna get rid of you. Keep fucking you just like that for as long as you let me.’

Steve smiles into Billy’s neck, kisses the damp skin there again because Billy just makes him feel so _much_ , always makes him feel so much. ‘Forever, probably.’

Billy tilts his face up again. ‘You proposing, babe?’

Steve scrunches his face up. ‘Too soon?’

Billy grins. ‘Maybe a little.’

Steve huffs. ‘Fine. I’ll try again in six months.’

‘It’s a date,’ Billy says, and Steve thinks he’s never been happier.

‘It’s a date.’

**Author's Note:**

> title from the king princess song of the same name and honestly it's maybe a little on the nose but whatever
> 
> [find me on tumblr.](https://un-buttoned.tumblr.com/)


End file.
